


Undressing

by Megara Bee (Megara_Bee)



Series: Hiatus Sunday Fluff [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hiatus Sunday Fluff, HiatusSundayFluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megara_Bee/pseuds/Megara%20Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle escapes and returns to the Dark Castle. She's waited long enough to see her imp again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undressing

Wind howled outside the Dark Castle. Rumple sat hunched over his wheel, the flask sitting at his feet. It was never far, these days. A mortal weakness. He dismissed the banging on the outer doors as the storm rattling the knockers; he didn’t even budge when the door to the great hall opened with a bang.

Damn wind. It began to whisper to him, a far-off voice calling his name. He heard it as one submerged in water, from a great distance and with an other-worldly quality that haunted him. The voice grew louder and louder, harsher, as though the wind was screaming.

“Rumplestiltskin!”

Blinking, he looked up. Her specter was in front of him, hands shaking his shoulders, chestnut curls lacking their luster and dirt streaked on her cheeks. She looked different than the usual hallucinations; instead of gleaming and full she seemed ragged, windblown. Oh Gods, she was as beautiful as ever.

“Rumplestiltskin, what’s the matter with you?”

“Belle,” he sighed, “I’m sorry Belle. I know why you haunt me.”

She picked up the flask and gave it a whiff, face contorting. “Gods. Up with you, daft wizard.”

The phantom pulled him to his feet. That was new, too.

In the blink of an eye he found himself in his chambers, no recollection of his former maid pushing him up the staircase, not comprehending why he was standing in his bathing tub. She pried his outer layers of leather away, stripping away his waistcoat and tugging at his boots for several minutes before giving up with a loud sigh. He watched, swaying slightly, as she used the pump in the wall to fill a bucket of water. He continued to watch as she struggled to lift it, bracing it on her shoulder.

“Sweet Belle,” he whispered, reaching out to touch her. Instead of disappearing, as he’d expected, his fingers collided with her jaw. He furrowed his brow, but before he could ask himself why she did not disappear as she usually did, Belle dumped the bucket over his head.

“SHEPARD’S BALLS!” he cried, shaking as the last drops of icy water fell on his face. The Belle-thing (it wasn’t really Belle, the dear departed girl), picked up a towel and began rubbing his head, drying off his crimped hair. As his mind cleared, focus coming back to his wide, reptilian eyes, he stared at her. He reached out and grabbed her sides, claws digging in to the very real fabric of her leather outfit. Since when did she wear leather? Gods, she looked wonderful.

He pulled her close to his dripping body. “Belle?”

“Rumplestiltskin.”

“You’re… you’re real?”

“Of course I’m real,” she scoffed. Features softening, she brought a hand to cup his jaw, thumb stroking over his cheek. “Are you alright? I’ve never seen you so… lost.”

“You can’t be real. You died.”

Belle’s face once again turned sour. “Regina should learn not to count her chickens before they’re hatched, or her prisoners before they’re properly locked into a tower.”

“She kidnapped you?”

“She tried.”

“I’ll kill her,” he spat

“No, you won’t,” Belle said, dropping the towel and taking both of his hands in hers. “She failed. I came back to you, Rumple. I was always coming back; it just took me awhile to realize.” She paused. “I don’t know much about your plans, but I want to help you get your son back, and I think that you need that vile woman to succeed. You can’t kill her. Besides, I want to be with you,” she said, voice wavering at the end.

She was unsure, the sweet creature. “Oh, Belle,” he whispered, losing control and wrapping his arms around her, squeezing her close. She returned his embrace. “I’ll promise you the world, if you’ll stay,” he said, blaming the liquor for his sentimental tongue.

She nuzzled his chest, tilting her head up to look at him. “Oh Rumple… I don’t want the world. I just want you.”

He tipped his head down, lips inches from hers. For a moment they just stared at one another’s lips, reflecting like magnets.

“I can’t kiss you. The curse.”

“I know,” she whispered sadly.

“There are… other things.”

“Oh. _Oh_.”

“Not all are… sexual. Some are innocent. I can kiss you here,” he whispered, voice raspy, as he placed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “And here,” another kiss to the forehead. “And here,” pressing his lips to the corner of her jaw. He continued to kiss her there for some time, nipping softly at the skin beneath her ear. Belle gasped, breath becoming shallow, hands tightening on his sides.

“Is that meant to be innocent?”

“Partly,” he growled.

“It feels wonderful. But Rumple, I’ve drenched you. You’ll catch your death if we don’t get you out of those clothes.”

He paused, pulling away from her neck to scrutinize her face. “Are you being coy, little maid?”

“Partly,” she smirked. “But I’d also hate to see you fall ill. Come on,” she smiled, taking his hand. He followed her with a stunned expression into the bedroom – his bedroom – and allowed her to place him on the bed. With shaking fingers she pulled free his shirt, lifting it up off his chest. She explored the newly revealed skin with those same trembling hands, caressing every inch of the mottled golden-gray, giving special attentions to the harsh lines of his collarbones and ribs.

It wasn’t until she’d looked to his face after finishing her examination that she saw his eyes screwed up tight. Chuckling softly, she cupped his face in her hands. “Thank you, Rumple.” She appreciated his bravery, pressing kisses to the places he’d kissed her earlier: his nose, his forehead, the corner of his jaw. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

He scoffed. “Hardly.”

“I’m serious! I didn’t just fall in love with your sense of humor.” Belle lowered herself to kneel between his legs and returned her attention to the stubborn boots.

Rumple looked down and swallowed hard. The sight would have tortured him in her pretty blue work dress, but clad in leather and velvet, her breasts threatening to break free from her top? Her _golden_ top? He swallowed again.

He waved his hand and enveloped them both in purple smoke. When it cleared, the boots were gone. He was left in just his leather breeches.

“I should have made a deal with you, piece for piece.”

“Is that your way of saying you’d like to undress me?”

He didn’t answer. Belle grinned. She stood and pulled a large pair of gloves and a knife from her belt, unwinding the studded black rope and dropping it to the floor. Kicking off her boots, she stood before him, hands clasped behind her.

“Where would you like to start?”

Rumple stood, standing close to the woman who’d ensnared his wild, lonely heart. “Perhaps we ought to stop. I’m a monster, Belle.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t want to stop, either. I missed you, Rumplestiltskin; I still love you.”

“I- I… Belle…”

“I don’t need you to say it. I really don’t, Rumple. I know. I know,” she whispered, taking his hands and giving them a light squeeze. He pressed his forehead to hers, grateful for her patience. He slid his hands around her waist, palms relishing the way velvet turned to leather along her spine. Keeping one hand on her lower back, he brought the other around to her front, claws plucking at the lacing of her bodice. Once he had it opened, it took two hands to pull down her form-fitting leather sleeves and drop the whole thing to the ground.

The golden shift was tucked into her pants. He took a moment to play with it, gathering the loose material in his fists and pulling it tight against her curvaceous body. Belle shivered.

“You’re touching me,” she whispered.

“Would you like me to stop?”

“No, Gods no… I just… I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what it would feel like, what this would feel like.”

“And how do I live up to your expectations?” he asked, running his long nails up her spine to tangle in the ends of her hair. She shuddered again.

“You’re much better than a fantasy, Rumplestiltskin.”

He brought his hands up to her shoulders. Slowly, he began to bare her shoulders, moving the golden fabric down her arms. Belle sucked in a breath, swaying slightly from foot to foot.

“Say the word, Belle. Say it and I’ll stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

“You’re nervous.”

She mumbled something at her feet. With one curled finger Rumple made her look at him, his cock stirring as he took in the look of her parted lips and flushed cheeks.

“Say that again.”

“I… I’ve never… This is my first time. I’m only a little nervous,” she said as if to reassure _him_.

“Oh. That’s, uh…” Rumple cleared his throat. His brain proffered a quip about virgin sacrifice, but it didn’t pass his lips. The significance of this, of her giving herself to him, _choosing him_ … that was something he’d spend lifetimes trying to deserve.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pressure you.”

He smiled at her concern, moving his finger from her chin to stroke along her jaw. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I’ve read about it… I understand the basics, at least. I’m not some trembling virgin,” she said, determination steeling her features.

“But you are trembling,” he said, running his palms up and down her arms.

“I’m not afraid. I want you,” she wrapped her arms around his middle.

“I only doubt that a little,” he said smiling, thumb stroking across her lower lip. “Come on, sweetheart, sit down.” He guided her to the edge of the bed, sitting beside her. Belle nuzzled his chest, kissing her way from his collarbone to his throat. He wound a hand into her hair.

“This would be easier if I could kiss you,” she whispered.

“You’re probably right. How can I help you feel at ease?”

Belle continued to kiss the juncture of his shoulder and neck, but her hands moved down to the laces of his pants. He swallowed nervously, but allowed her to open them. He stood, and together they peeled the leather down to his thighs. His cock was free to bounce lightly in the air, rock hard and framed by his surprisingly pink balls.

Belle marveled at it. The tip and base were flesh-colored, somewhat ruddier than her own skin, but the length of him was scaled and golden-grey. And oh, was he long. Her fingers, feather-soft, explored this new part of him. Rumple winced, trying not to buck into her touch like an eager schoolboy.

“It’s bigger than I’d imagined.”

“You’ve imagined it? I mean, me?”

“Of course. There were many nights where I’d leave you at your spinning wheel and retire to my chambers, hand sneaking down to touch myself beneath the covers…”

This time his hips did jerk forward. “Glad to see you’re feeling more relaxed.”

Belle pressed a kiss to his tip and he growled. Grabbing her by the hair on the top of her head, he gently pulled her away. “Careful, Dearie, or it’ll be over too soon.” Releasing her, he climbed onto the bed to kneel behind her. He felt her tense, placing his hands on her shoulders. Fingering the edge of her shirt, he placed a few tender kisses to the side of her neck. “May I?” he whispered.

She nodded. His calloused palms pushed the golden fabric off her shoulders. He worshipped the newly bared skin with kisses, letting his lips drag across the expanse between her shoulder blades. Once her back had been thoroughly smooched, he turned to her neck, pleased to see the way she tipped her head, allowing him better access.

The shirt was now bunched at her elbows and caught on her hardened nipples, keeping her chest partially covered. Rumple’s hands cupped her breasts softly, nails catching the edge of the shift. Again he whispered, “May I?” and Belle nodded, also giving a breathless “Yes.”  He removed the pesky fabric, guiding her arms free of the rotten thing.

With a growl, he gently bit her shoulder, hands coming up to firmly squeeze her breasts. “Oh, Belle,” he sighed, reverently massaging her chest. “You’re so beautiful. You take my breath away,” he said, kissing her shoulder before looking down to watch his hands more closely. He watched as he pinched her rosy nipples between his pointer and middle fingers. Belle moaned at his ministrations, her breasts fitting so well in his palms that her heart would have ached if she’d had enough presence of mind to dwell on it.

He plucked her nipples, teasing her. She began to writhe against him. Suddenly, air; Rumple had pulled away his hands and was moving away, off the bed, leaving Belle off-balance.

“Scoot back, sweetheart, and lay down.”

She did as he bade, knees pressed against the edge of the mattress, lowering herself back. Rumple lifted one knee onto the bed and leaned over her, taking her breasts once more in hand. Belle gasped when he wrapped his lips around her left nipple, giving it a gentle suck. He let it go with a pop. He circled it with his tongue before sucking it up again; his hand was busy on her right breast, massaging it roughly and occasionally tweaking her nipple.

He switched off, Belle burying her hands in his hair. She was in constant motion now, fingers brushing against his scalp, hips rocking, back arching. She felt like her skin was on fire, as if a door had opened inside her and she wanted desperately to step through it. She was mewling, whimpering as he scraped his teeth across her sensitive peaks.

Soon it was too much, or not enough. “Rumple, I need…. I need…”

“What Belle?” he asked, releasing her breast and raising his head. “Tell me what you need.”

“Dunno!” she whined, hips bucking into the air. “Please, Rumple, please…”

He stood, Belle bemoaning the loss of contact. He grabbed the top of her pants and the shirt gathered there, tugging them down her legs and off. Petticoats did not fit into breeches, of course, so she was wearing a pair of muslin shorts to protect her from the roughness of the pants. Crouched over her, he begged for permission. “Please, Belle?”

“Yes, Gods yes!” she cried, more than a hint of exasperation.

He lowered his face between her thighs, breathing in her scent. He removed the underwear slowly, kissing them a path down her leg. She sighed with each hot kiss he pressed to her skin. Once the pesky muslin was out of the way, he returned to her core by kissing his way up her other leg. He felt her tense as he neared her mons.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, speaking between kisses placed on her thigh. “I won’t hurt you. But we don’t have to continue, either.”

“You don’t need to ask for permission. I’m just…”

“Nervous.”

“Yes.”

“Well, if you’d like to keep going, just spread your legs a little wider for me.”

She did, fingers fluttering around her stomach.

“You said you’ve touched yourself before?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t crack.

“Yes, I have.”

“You’ll have to tell me how I compare.” He started with feather-light kisses along her vulva, pleased by the little gasp she made at each. He grew bolder as she started to relax, becoming more and more vocal to his gentle touches. He slid one finger between her labia, tongue pressing against her clit. Her hips bucked, and he drew circles on her thigh with his other hand. The stone floor was hard on his knees, but his finger found her warm and in the first stages of wetness. That was worth a little discomfort.

When he slipped his finger into her and began thrusting slowly, she bucked again.

“No comparison!” she gasped, hands grabbing her own breasts. He grinned, and started drawing patterns with his tongue. Experimenting with her little bud, he was getting an idea of how best to please her in the future, should she wish him to. Flicking it from side to side made her squeal, and, in his eagerness to be with her, he exploited that movement more than he normally might have.

“No comparison- in my favor?” he asked, working his finger in and out of her more enthusiastically.

“Gods, yes. But Rumple, what you said… about it being over too soon?”

“Ah,” he slid a second finger into her and buried them, “one of the Gods’ best gifts to women. Multiple, consecutive orgasms.” He crooked his fingers to press against her, hardly drawing out before he pumped her again, knuckle-deep. He sped up his tongue, alternating between frantic side-to-side motions and suckling on her clit.

It was moments before she experienced the Gods’ gift for herself. Belle’s body shook, one hand buried in the sheets above her head, the other squeezing her breast as her hips rocked against Rumplestiltskin’s mouth. She had felt the pleasure of coming apart before, but never with such intensity. As her muscles squeezed his fingers, stars bursting behind her eyes, she was briefly reminded of the sensation of galloping on a horse for the first time. Breathtaking.

When her eyes fluttered open, she saw him sucking his fingers clean. She propped herself up on her elbows, still catching her breath.

“I didn’t expect it to feel so… so wonderful.”

“It might feel even better with a real man.”

“Shush,” she scolded, reaching down to pull him onto the bed beside her. “I love you, Rumplestiltskin. I will never stop fighting for you. You might not see yourself as a man, but I know what a man you are. What a man you can be. Now please,” she brushed his hair back behind his ear, trailing her fingers down his neck, “please make love to me. I think I’ve waited long enough.”

Sliding an arm around her middle he pulled her, giggling, to lie across the bed the way it was meant to be laid on. He settled himself atop her. Belle spread her legs eagerly, pleased to see how his slim hips fit between her thighs.

“Are you sure, Belle?” he asked. The head of his cock brushed against her folds and his eyes shut involuntarily.

“I’m certain. Fuck me, Rumple,” she whispered, biting her lower lip at her wantonness. He growled, lining them up with one hand.

“What a mouth on you, maid. I’d kiss you, but instead…” He let the words remain unsaid as, with a determined push, he entered her. Belle squeezed her eyes shut until he was fully sheathed in her, panting softly. He had never felt such sweet bliss as being buried in her, in his Belle. He dropped his head to the crook of her neck. He kissed her damp skin for several moments, as she adjusted to the feeling of his cock inside her.

Soon her hands were buried in his hair, her hips tilting to try and find more friction.

“I’m ready, Rumple.”

He started to move. It felt painstakingly slow, but with every stroke he felt closer to the gorgeous woman beneath him. She mewled with pleasure, fingers on his scalp encouraging him to press deeper, to move faster.

“Oh Gods… Rumple! Yes… Gods yes…”

They found a rhythm that satisfied them both, and both were close to climax: Belle being inexperienced and Rumple having gone without for close to forty years.

Driving into Belle was as close to a heaven as Rumple thought he’d ever find. He kissed her neck roughly, hoping to leave a mark, biting and scraping and sucking.

“Oh fuck… Can you come for me again, Belle? Come for me,” he groaned, sliding a hand down to press her clit. His hips sped up, unable to keep himself from careening into her. She cried out, not words but pure joy, gasping for air as she prepared to step through that door again. She screamed as she climaxed, walls clenching around his cock. Feeling her sweet release was enough to pull him over the edge and with stuttering hips, he spilled his seed inside her.

They collapsed, panting. He rolled off of her to his side, watching the flushed beauty as she smiled into the air.

“Rumple, that was amazing.”

“It truly was.” He stroked her cheek. She turned towards him and reached out, but he pulled away. Suddenly the consequences of their passion overwhelmed him; the clarity of what today meant was astounding. Belle was alive, and she was his, and Regina would _pay_ , and he needed to find his son. He climbed out of the bed, dressing himself in a cloud of purple smoke. “I have to go… I have to… work. Goodnight, Belle.”

“Rumple, I don’t-”

“Please, sleep here.” With another hand-wave, he had dressed her in a sky-blue silk nightgown and tucked her in. “Perhaps, breakfast?”

“I’ll bring it to the great hall at the usual time.”

“Belle, you’re not my maid anymore. You needn’t-”

“Goodnight, Rumplestiltskin.” Heart stinging, she turned away from him, adjusting the pillows beneath her head.

He’d fucked up again, hadn’t he? It couldn’t be helped. He slunk from the room and returned to his wheel. He needed to spin, he needed to think. He’d see her tomorrow.


End file.
